


Just Deserts

by Zeplerfer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A Little bit of Homophobia, Basketball, Drug Use, High School AU, M/M, Prom, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur thought he wanted payback after Alfred's friends humiliated him at a party by tricking him into eating magical brownies. But it turned out all he really wanted was Alfred. And maybe just a *bit* of revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Deserts

_Part I: Cork High and Bottle Deep_

Alfred F. Jones didn't particularly like parties. He felt the need to go to them on occasion to maintain his reputation, but he mostly skipped out and blamed his lack of attendance on his parents. His parents weren't actually strict; they were aging hippies who wore sandals with socks and didn't bother to set a curfew for their sons. Fortunately, they didn't care if he used them as an excuse to avoid yet another weekend party filled with too much gossip and drama.

But when he heard the Francis Bonnefoy was hosting a party, he knew that he _had_ to go. Francis was kinda fun and he always had good food. The food was just a bonus, however. The real reason Alfred was planning to go was because Francis had a stepbrother. Arthur Kirkland. The student council president. The handsome, caustic, intelligent, mature, stuck-up, witty, spitfire student president. Although he and Alfred didn't really talk at school, they did have lockers in the same hallway and Alfred liked what he saw. He wanted a chance to talk to Arthur in a casual setting and he hoped Arthur would be more relaxed at his stepbrother's party. They could talk about something fun instead of listening to Arthur complain about his dress code violations.

...or not.

He saw Arthur as soon as he entered the living room. It was hard to miss the glaring Brit, especially when he was still wearing his school uniform. Alfred absent-mindedly wondered what Arthur looked like in street clothes. He bet those legs would look amazing in tight jeans. Just the thought of it made him drool.

"Jones, don't you dare break anything!" Arthur barked as soon as he spotted the American entering the room. Alfred tripped over his shoes, but caught himself on the couch. Crap, they were already off on the wrong foot. Alfred couldn't help it that he always felt clumsy in Arthur's presence!

Alfred faked a laugh and tried not to look hurt. "Dude, don't get your panties in a twist. I won't touch your precious unicorn figurines."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's like having a bull in a china shop."

"Just so long as it isn't a Kirkland in the kitchen," Alfred retorted. The others laughed and Arthur's glare deepened. Alfred instantly regretted the taunt. When he was nervous he tended to say things without thinking. The entire school knew the story of Arthur Kirkland's disastrous first day in Home Ec. Normally, a student that started a fire that freed students from a full hour of class would have been hailed as a hero. But Arthur wasn't popular, so students simply re-told the story to humiliate him at every chance. Alfred knew he shouldn't use the story, but every time Arthur criticized him, he wanted to push back and this was the only way he knew how. Trying to ignore Arthur's hurt glare, Alfred made his way to the kitchen. For some reason, the food didn't taste as delicious as he had hoped.

He sighed and grabbed a soda from the fridge. It was something fancy and foreign, but it would have to do. Alfred estimated that one hour would be enough time to satisfy the demands of reputation. And maybe if he got home early enough, he could play a few more rounds of Diablo III with Kiku. He grabbed a plate full of food and munched as he wandered around the rest of the first floor, taking care to avoid Arthur. It was nice. Classy. The kind of place you'd expect from Bonnefoy's mother. She was an international fashion designer, which explained a lot about Francis Bonnefoy. Alfred doubted that she knew her son was throwing a party while she was out of the country.

Alfred said hello to a few classmates and kept glancing at his watch. The exit path from the house would take him through the living room again, which meant another confrontation with Arthur. He couldn't decide whether it'd be better if Arthur made a snarky comment or if he'd rather that Arthur just ignore him. Either way, at the end of the hour, he took a calming breath and made his way back to the living room.

He wasn't prepared for what he found.

Arthur lounged on the couch, smiling and giggling uncontrollably. At some point he'd removed his tie and wrapped it around his forehead. The school's group of potheads sat nearby, passing around a bottle of beer. Some of Alfred's shock must have shown on his face, because his expression made Gilbert chortle.

"Dude, isn't it hilarious? Ned offered him some of those brownies he brought and he didn't even realize they were 'special.' Turns out he's a total lightweight."

"I can't decide what we should write on his face when he passes out," Antonio added, rubbing his hands with glee.

Arthur, oblivious to the discussion about him, waved and giggled. "Alfred, join the party. It's fuuun." He accepted the bottle of beer and chugged a good amount before passing it on to the next person.

"I think we need awesome blackmail photos," Gilbert added.

Alfred thanked his lucky stars that he arrived before Antonio and Gilbert had made good on their plans. Fortunately, they were too lazy to act quickly and Francis was probably busy making out with his girlfriend in the front closet. Alfred needed to come up with his own plan to move Arthur somewhere safe, without making it seem as though he cared. It would be embarrassing to deal with the teasing, especially if Arthur ever found out.

"Beer and weed? He's going to puke," Alfred complained. He stayed away from the stuff himself since he was worried about getting kicked off the basketball team, but he'd learned a bit about it from his brother Matt and his parents.

Gilbert frowned. "Scheiße! You're right."

"If he's going to puke, he should do it in his own room," Alfred added for good measure. He was glad that Gilbert and Antonio were easily manipulated while crunked.

"I'm not carrying his heavy-ass upstairs," Antonio muttered.

"Make Alfred do it. Dude can't weigh much more than a basketball." They all glanced at Arthur, who blinked and toppled over on his side, giggling all the while.

"If he pukes on me, you're paying for it," Alfred complained outwardly, while celebrating on the inside. Arthur would be safe in his bedroom and Alfred could go home with the warm glow of knowing that he had been a secret hero for his secret crush. He walked over to the couch and lifted Arthur up by one arm, which he slung around his shoulder. Arthur managed to stumble a few steps forward, but Alfred soon found himself supporting most of the Brit's weight as they climbed up the stairs.

"Have you ever noticed that stairs go both up and down?" Arthur asked in a wondering tone. "There's no one-way staircase." He giggled and smiled.

Now that they weren't surrounded by mocking students, Alfred decided that he liked Arthur's smile. It made his face look relaxed and happy, instead of tense and serious. He really liked that smile, although he wasn't looking forward to seeing the look on Arthur's face when his high wore off. Other than a slight detour for Arthur to admire the pretty wallpaper, they made it to the second floor without incident. Alfred breathed out a sigh of relief. He'd been worried that Arthur would actually puke.

"Where's your bedroom?" Alfred asked.

"Second star and straight on past morning," Arthur attempted to gesture and would have fallen over if not for Alfred's strong grip on his waist.

"Yeah, I suppose you are in Never-Never Land at the moment. Did you notice how I understood a literary reference, even though you mangled the words?" Alfred asked.

A sober Arthur would have been impressed. Then again, a sober Arthur wouldn't be slouched against him, giggling like a madman and occasionally trying to grope his ass. Alfred decided not to mention that he only understood the reference because of the Disney film. Even this Arthur would probably mock him for that. He did move Arthur's hand from his butt. Normally, he would have welcomed the touch, but it just felt weird while Arthur kept giggling. He couldn't decide if it meant that Arthur actually liked him or if Arthur just got horny while high.

"Left and right are just names. For things," Arthur replied with a dignified giggle.

Alfred resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to try the closed doors until he found the right one. At least a one in six chance wasn't that bad. The first was a bathroom. Good to know in case Arthur did end up puking. The second looked like a normal adult room and the pink panties in the hamper by the bed suggested it didn't belong to Arthur or Francis unless they had been keeping major secrets. The third was a linen closet. At the fourth door, Alfred found what he was looking for, even though it was different than he had expected. He really doubted that Francis listened to the Sex Pistols, but he wouldn't have expected it of Arthur either. Fortunately, the unicorn plushie on the bed set his mind to rest. This was definitely the right bedroom.

Arthur stumbled his own way over to his bed and plopped down. "Alfie!" he said happily.

Alfred nearly choked. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"His name is Alfie," Arthur explained, holding up the unicorn. "Alfred the Great. Alfred the Cake. Alfred burnt the cakes."

Well, that didn't explain anything.

"He's almost as cute as you," Arthur added while nuzzling the unicorn.

And that explained a great deal. "You think I'm cute?" Alfred asked. Just that one comment was enough to fill him with a ridiculous sense of happiness. "Then why do you act so mean?"

" _You're_ mean," Arthur said with a pout.

"Well, you were mean first!"

Instead of replying, Arthur slumped over his pillow and started to blink drowsily. He looked completely out of it. Seeing that an interrogation was out of the question, Alfred decided he might as well take a peak at Arthur's room. It was much cleaner than the room of a high school student had any right to be. Many things he had expected: the stack of schoolwork on the table, the shelves filled with books. Others were more surprising: Sex Pistols and Clash posters, not to mention the guitar in the corner. He gratefully noticed that Arthur still had a CD player. It was a good thing Arthur was so technologically inept. Most regular teenagers would use an MP3 player or their computer. Alfred popped in a CD and lowered the sound enough so that it couldn't be heard from the hallway. If he'd learned anything from experiences with his brother, it was that Arthur would happily stay in his room listening to music for the next hour.

"That sounds amazing," Arthur breathed, closing his eyes to better enjoy the music. "It sounds like purplish-green."

Alfred glanced around the room one final time and decided he'd done what he could for the student president. He needed to get back downstairs before anyone drew inferences from his absence. They'd probably assume that he was drawing figures on Arthur's face, but he didn't want that sort of rumor flying around the school either.

"Al, this is a gooood party. I'm glad you came." Arthur smiled with his eyes still closed, a smile of heart-breaking loveliness. Alfred wanted to wrap his arms around Arthur. He wanted to reassure the smaller teenager that everything would be okay. He wanted to stay and listen to the Clash with Arthur, even though he liked country music best.

But he did none of those things.

"Me, too," Alfred responded quietly as he closed the door behind him.

All the way down the stairs, Alfred worried about what he was going to tell Gilbert and Antonio to explain the reason for his delay if they asked. It turned out he didn't need to bother. Elizabeta had arrived with her boyfriend Roderich and they were currently in a three-way shouting match with Gilbert. This was exactly the sort of drama that Alfred wished he could avoid at parties. Unfortunately, they were blocking the doorway.

By the end of it, Elizabeta was single again and Roderich and Gilbert had stormed in opposite directions. Liz's eyes lit up when she spotted Alfred. He recognized her look of "I'm planning to make my not-boyfriends jealous" and for once he was willing to entertain her advances. If he did something _really_ outrageous, perhaps everyone would forget the hilarious mental image of their stoned student president. Alfred didn't have a lot of dignity, but what he had, he was willing to sacrifice for Arthur.

"Lizzie, you look gorgeous tonight," he said with a wink.

"I guess being single suits me," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes. As the head of the school's GSA, Elizabeta had earned her way into Alfred's confidence. She also knew that he was in the closet because he didn't want to deal with their homophobic basketball coach. She probably suspected that Alfred wanted to use her as cover and was perfectly willing since it matched her ends.

Alfred crossed the floor boldly until there was almost no space between them. For the sake of the gathering audience of students, he whispered into her ear, "I've got a favor to ask. You want to go upstairs and pretend to make out?"

"That sounds wonderful," she agreed.

To Elizabeta's great pleasure, Alfred swept her up into his arms and carried her upstairs. The students gasped (either in shock or in glee, he couldn't tell), but no one interfered.

"You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet," Liz commented dryly when he gently deposited her on the landing. "So what's the favor?"

Alfred quickly explained how Arthur had unknowingly eaten the special brownie, his subsequent giggle-fest, and Alfred's hasty rescue attempt. "So, I figure that since you deal with Gilbert, you'd know how to make sure he's okay. I didn't want to leave him up here alone."

"Alfred, sweetie, you're so kind." Lizzie smiled tenderly. "Arthur's lucky to have a friend like you, even if he doesn't know it yet."

They entered the room to find Arthur exactly where Alfred had left him, still enthralled by the music. Elizabeta wrapped Arthur in a blanket and encouraged him to drink a glass of water, explaining that it would make him feel better the next day.

"Eliza, Eliza, this is the music of an Englishman," Arthur replied.

"That probably means thank you," Alfred translated.

Lizzie laughed. "No, I think it means that he's too high for coherent conversation. But don't worry, I appreciate the sentiment. Take off his shoes, will you?"

They put Arthur to bed and Alfred really wished he could take a picture to remember the moment forever. He had a sense it might never come his way again. Arthur looked adorable curled up with his unicorn, faced pressed into the pillow, his hair spread out in all directions, still smiling and giggling. Lizzie reassured Alfred that she would make Francis promise to check in on his stepbrother or else she would beat him with a frying pan. And if he told anyone, she would also beat him with a frying pan. In fact, she might just beat him with a frying pan anyway. It was kinda her thing.

As they left, Elizabeta ruffled Alfred's hair and pushed the strap of her dress over her shoulder. "Try and look post-coital," she suggested.

"What?"

"Smug and satisfied. Just... think about something that makes you happy."

Alfred thought about the fact that Arthur had named his unicorn Alfred and Lizzie declared that the resulting smile was perfect.

* * *

_Part II: In High Dudgeon_

The next Monday, the school buzzed with rumors.

Elizabeta breaking up with Roderich or Gilbert was too commonplace to be interesting, but her immediate tryst with Alfred caught the school's attention. The girls swooned over how he had carried her bridal style. The boys placed bets on how long it would take before Gilbert challenged him to a duel. Roderich played music. Alfred congratulated himself on the fact that no one was talking about Arthur's pot adventures.

He listened to the rumors and denied anything when asked directly. That was always a good way to keep rumors fresh. Alfred had basketball practice on Mondays, which saved him from a potential run-in with Gilbert after school. It was probably for the best. Given what Gilbert had been willing to do to blackmail the student president, Alfred wasn't feeling particularly charitable towards his erstwhile friend.

At the end of practice, Alfred went to retrieve his physics book from his locker. He waved goodbye to his teammates and entered the darkened school. He always hated how empty the hallways sounded after-hours. He shivered, imagining all the ghosts of angry schoolchildren that could haunt the place. Kids who had _literally_ died of boredom in English class. (See, English teacher? He _did_ know how to use the word literally.)

The sight of a dark figure near his locker made Alfred nearly jump in fright, until he realized that the person was alive, breathing, and very angry.

"You're lucky I didn't call the police," Arthur snapped. He stood leaning against the locker, his arms crossed and his eyebrows scrunched in a terrible scowl. Alfred stopped and stared. Given that the last time he'd seen Arthur, the student president had been face-down, giggling into a mattress, he felt his confusion was pretty understandable.

"What?"

"You drugged me!"

" _What_?!" Alfred shouted in shock. He had never considered in a million years that Arthur would blame him for the brownie. His stomach dropped to the floor and he thought he was going to be sick. Arthur narrowed his eyes after seeing Alfred's pale face, taking it for a sign of guilt.

"I remember Gilbert, Antonio, and you talking about blackmail. But if you so much as breathe a whisper of this to anyone, I will report you."

Alfred shook his head in disbelief, finding it hard to put his scattered thoughts into words. He had been so happy to realize that Arthur thought he was cute and now he felt terrible because Arthur thought he was a complete jerk. "Arthur, there aren't any blackmail photos and I honestly didn't know about the brownies. All I did was help you up to your room. You can ask Lizzie if you want."

Arthur snorted. "Of course, hiding behind your girlfriend already."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Alfred exploded. He couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or shout. He settled for yelling because it was marginally more dignified. "God, Arthur, what did I ever do to make you think I was such an asshole? Did I run over your cat or something? Why do you hate me so damned much?"

For a moment, Arthur looked confused and a little shaken. He unbent his arms and allowed them to fall to his side. "You always mock me," he finally replied, his voice low and cold.

"Well, you always criticize me," Alfred retorted, crossing his arms. "But I don't go around accusing you of committing crimes."

It was Arthur's turn to shout. "What was I supposed to think? You and your friends invaded my house and I woke up the next morning with huge blanks in my memory. I remember you and blackmail and for some reason the color greenish-purple."

"You thought that a Clash song sounded like purplish-green," Alfred explained.

"I see. Well, I suppose that answers _nothing_ ," Arthur snarked.

Alfred suddenly realized that Arthur was scared. He didn't have any reason to trust Alfred or believe that Alfred wanted to help him. Why would he? They squabbled every time they talked. Arthur disliked most of Alfred's friends. For all Arthur knew, Alfred would be happy to humiliate him if given half a chance. And the party had presented chances aplenty. Arthur probably thought that he was just a jerk with a nice face, which was why he had never made a move before.

Alfred sighed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He felt tired. He hadn't expected Arthur to come up to him to say 'oh thank you my hero for saving me!' because it wouldn't have been in-character for the fiercely independent student president. He liked Arthur because he didn't take guff from anyone. But he couldn't handle the idea that Arthur actually _blamed_ him and he didn't know how to convince Arthur of his innocence. "I decorate my bedroom ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stickers. I even move them around every month so they stay accurate," Alfred offered.

Arthur looked confused.

"Ghost movies terrify me. Even Casper the Friendly Ghost. I play Dungeons and Dragons. I read Star Wars expanded universe novels. I'm actually bisexual, but I stay in the closet because Coach Akins is a total bigot."

"I don't understand your point," Arthur replied. He looked worried, confused, and a touch intrigued.

"I'm offering you security. You don't trust me to stay quiet, but now you can retaliate if I don't. Hell, if you want, I'll even let you get me drunk."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "My place, this Friday. 3:30pm. Don't be late or I will tell the world about your fear of Casper." He walked to the edge of the hallway and then turned back to make one parting shot. "By the way, Jones, did anyone ever tell you about the girl who got trapped in the locker next to yours and died?"

Alfred shivered. "You're an asshole, Kirkland!" he shouted back.

After quickly grabbing his books and shoving them into his backpack, Alfred slammed the door shut. He swore he could hear a noise coming from inside the nearby locker. It seemed to say, 'help me.' Terrified, he sprinted out of the building.

* * *

_Part III: It's High Time_

Alfred began to drag his feet as he approached the Tudor-style mansion. He had blown past second thoughts long ago. He was on his fifth thoughts now. Arthur had stopped his usual criticisms during the past week, but then again, they had barely spoken all week. Alfred couldn't decide if this was an encouraging sign or not.

He knocked on the door and held his breath. He felt like they'd turned a corner, but he knew that the corridor ahead presented all sorts of potential pitfalls. Unfortunately, real life wasn't like D&D, so he couldn't just depend on his rogue to spot all the traps.

Arthur opened the door almost immediately and cocked an eyebrow. "You're late." He turned on his heels and walked up the stairs, clearly expecting Alfred to follow. Alfred did.

Arthur's bedroom looked the same as Alfred remembered, except for the lack of the plush unicorn. Arthur took a seat on the bed and gestured Alfred towards the seat at the desk. Instead of school work, the table now supported a bottle of rum. Alfred sat down and awkwardly reached for the open bottle. He didn't really go for the hard stuff. He hesitated and glanced at Arthur. He was on his sixth thoughts now. "Geez, a whole bottle of rum? Are you _trying_ to kill me? And don't I get a shot glass? It seems weird just drinking from the bottle like an alcoholic at 3 in the afternoon."

"This was your idea and I don't want the bother of cleaning a glass. So stop whining and start chugging."

Alfred closed his eyes, gathered his courage, and took a quick gulp. He expected the liquor to burn down his throat. It did nothing of the sort. Instead it tasted like…

"Hey, this is water!" he protested.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Providing alcohol to a minor is also a crime. I just wanted to see if you'd actually match your boast. And you did. Good job, congratulations. You can now show yourself out."

"That's it?" Alfred asked. "You believe me now?" he added with a hopeful smile.

Arthur's expression was the epitome of inscrutable. "Sure," he replied with a shrug.

Alfred knew that he had trouble reading people. He tended to take people at their word, even when the nuances of tone would have been clear to another person. His parents had him tested for autism as a child. The doctor informed them, sadly, that there wasn't a cure for obliviousness. But Alfred had learned that "sure" and "fine" were minefields when accompanied by a flat tone and a shrug. So he did what he normally did when faced with a delicate situation. He plowed ahead. Fools and angels and all that jazz.

"Nope, that's not good enough," Alfred said. He walked out of the room and took the stairs two at a time. He heard Arthur shout in surprise and follow closely behind. Thanks to the party last Friday, he knew exactly where to find his goal. He opened up the liquor cabinet in the dining room and whistled in appreciation.

"What are you doing?" Arthur protested from the doorway.

Alfred spied the bottle of butterscotch Schnapps and decided that it sounded the tastiest. He grinned at Arthur and held up the bottle. "I promised you that I would get crazy drunk and act ridiculous, and I keep my promises."

"Wait a second!" Arthur moved to grab the bottle from Alfred, but the taller blond used his basketball experience to dodge to the side and hold the bottle out of Arthur's reach. Arthur growled from the back of his throat. "I didn't invite you here to drink my father's expensive liquor!"

"Pfft. You didn't invite me at all." Alfred stuck out his tongue and then ran back to the bedroom. He laughed in excitement—his normal laugh, a low and throaty chuckle. He really had no clue what he was doing, but it felt amazing because he finally had Arthur's full attention, even if Arthur thought he was a nutcase. Arthur followed, cursing him out with all sorts of strange British terms. Good thing Arthur's parents weren't going to be home for another hour and Francis had practice with his band.

Alfred leapt into the bed as he cradled the bottle in his arms. He glanced around. "So where's Alfie the unicorn?" he asked innocently.

Arthur made a choking noise. "Don't tell me you believe that ridiculous rumor."

"Well, I didn't. But then you introduced us last Friday night. He's cute. And you're cute when you're holding him, y'know? Although I still don't get what you meant about burnt cakes. _I'm_ not the one who burns food."

Arthur paled, even as he maintained his scowl, which Alfred thought was a pretty impressive feat. No one expressed anger quite like Arthur. He looked so sexy when he was angry, which was probably why Arthur looked sexy all the time.

"Give back that bottle and get out!" Arthur yelled. Alfred thought he might have taken things too far, but he saw no way but forward now.

Alfred waved the bottle from side to side. "You know," he began casually, "I think that people are more honest when they're drunk… or high. So the way I see it, we should both get sloshed and have a talk."

Arthur frowned, as he stepped back and leaned against his desk to steady himself. "That's what this is about, isn't it? I said something I shouldn't have and you're angry."

"Do I look angry?" Alfred replied so cheerfully that Arthur lifted his head. "You only said things we shoulda-coulda said months ago. Oh, and you groped my butt."

They stared at each other—Alfred trying to look confident and calm as Arthur's face flashed through a series of expressions (embarrassment, confusion, exasperation, and what Alfred really hoped was desire). He finally settled on a rather thoughtful and ambiguous expression. Clearly playing poker with Arthur was a bad idea.

Arthur extended his hand. "Pass the bottle," he said. Alfred did. The student president gave it a long look, before placing the butterscotch Schnapps on the table next to the fake rum. "We've got one hour before my parents get home," he explained, then he walked over to the bed, cupped Alfred's jaw, and kissed him soundly.

Alfred had never smoked before. He was too worried that the random testing at school would force him off the basketball team. But at that moment, with Arthur pressed against him, kissing him senseless, he had a good idea what it felt like to be as high as a kite. And it felt _wonderful_.

* * *

 

_Part IV: Friends in High Places_

Alfred stared down the long dark hallway and took a deep breath. He reminded himself that heroes weren't supposed to be scared of ghosts. He hummed the Ghostbusters theme song for a few bars and began walking forward. He wasn't afraid of no ghosts! Then he heard it. The low moaning noise from the locker next to his. Alfred ran back to the end of the hallway and huddled in the lighted area. Stupid school for trying to save money by turning off lights after-hours.

 _Who you gonna call?,_ he thought to himself as he pulled out his cellphone and quickly punched a number on speed dial.

"Hey practice is over and I was just thinking that I should walk you home because it's so late at night and do you want to meet me at my locker?" Alfred asked in a rush.

He could hear a sigh on the other end of the line. "You want me to come help you get your bookbag, don't you?" Arthur asked. "Alfred, I've told you a million times. I made up the story about the girl dying in the locker next to yours." He could _sense_ Arthur rolling his eyes.

"But I can hear her! She's like Moaning Myrtle," Alfred protested.

"Yes, she is like Moaning Myrtle, in that she's _fictional_."

"Wait, are you saying magic isn't real?" Alfred asked, a sly expression spreading across his face. Arthur had once made the mistake of complaining about how Harry Potter got magic all wrong and now Alfred couldn't stop teasing Arthur for believing in magic. Alfred grinned to himself, knowing that he'd found the perfect counter-argument. Score one for logic!

Arthur huffed. "I'll see you in a minute," he replied.

By happy coincidence, student council meetings and basketball practice were both on Monday evenings. A few weeks ago, Alfred didn't know or care about the student council meetings. A few weeks ago, he hadn't been dating student council president Arthur Kirkland. Turns out, a lot could change in a few weeks.

Alfred grinned in relief when he saw Arthur approaching from the other side of the hallway. He hurried over to his locker, pretending that he had not been standing at the end of the hallway waiting for Arthur to banish the dead girl's moans. He packed away his science books in seconds, shouldered his bag, and reached out to grab Arthur's hand. Mondays should have been the worst day of the week, but Alfred had come to love Mondays over the past month because he could hold Arthur's hand in the deserted hallways and no one would be the wiser. Although they weren't exactly hiding their relationship, not many people knew since Arthur insisted on strictly following the "no PDA" rules during school hours. Fortunately, he was willing to bend the rules a little once everyone had left.

As they walked over to Arthur's home, Alfred listened to his boyfriend discuss the latest student council business. The prom committee still hadn't chosen a theme. Apparently the school administrators had not been pleased with their suggestion for 'Your Love is My Drug.'

Alfred chuckled. He normally didn't care much about the dry topic of event planning, but Arthur had a way of making all of his stories witty. Or maybe things just sounded better in an English accent.

Eventually, the topic drifted to basketball. "Man, I'm really looking forward to Friday's game," Alfred said eagerly.

"Planning to win the state championship?" Arthur asked fondly. He still maintained that soccer was the only sport for him, but he had started attending the school's basketball games. Just to show school spirit, he said. Of course.

Alfred grinned. "Yeah, that too. Mostly I can't wait for the end of the game."

"What happens then?"

"Well, the coach always invites us out to dinner after the last game of the season. But this year, I'm going to tell him I can't make it 'cause I got a date with my boyfriend!"

Arthur's eyes widened. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Senior year. Last game. Not much he can do to me now," Alfred cheerfully replied. "I mean, if that's okay with you. I wasn't going to tell him your name, but I understand if you don't want it leaking out."

Arthur squeezed the taller boy's hand reassuringly. "No it's fine. My parents don't care. When I told my step-mum that I was gay, she smiled happily and said that at least she'd only have to worry about one of her sons getting a girl pregnant."

Alfred burst into laughter and they walked up the path to Arthur's home still holding hands. He liked Madame Bonnefoy. She was refreshingly honest about sex and she baked delicious pastries. Plus, she and her husband often left the country for business trips, which gave him and Arthur lots of opportunities for uninterrupted make-out sessions.

"Would you like to come up for some studying?" Arthur asked as he unlocked the door.

"Do you mean studying or 'studying'?" Alfred waggled his eyebrows and used one hand to form quote marks in the air.

"Actual studying, you numpty." Arthur stuck out his tongue and mimed a blow at Alfred's shoulder. "I have a test tomorrow."

Alfred grinned and agreed. He had discovered that dating Arthur was doing wonders for his English grades. Apparently his teachers liked papers that didn't use chatspeak or emoticons. Who knew?

He sprawled out and spread his problem sets across Arthur's bedroom floor. Now and then he glanced up to see Arthur staring in concentration at his own homework. Alfred worked through his problems with a grin. If he got lucky and they both finished early, he could still get in a little more 'studying.' Each time he discovered something new, like the hint of tea in each kiss, the way Arthur's skillful fingers danced through his hair, or the sharp gasp Arthur made when Alfred left a hickey on his neck.

Math was okay and science was fun, but Arthur was his new favorite subject.

* * *

_Part V: Hold Your Head High_

Feliciana and Lovina had narrated most of the Eagles' basketball game (Feliciana complimenting the players on every good move while Lovina angrily took them to task for every mistake), so Alfred was surprised to hear a new voice through the loudspeaker at the end of their most recent time out.

"Hey dudes and dudettes. So Feli and Lovi both had to head home totally early to go to their grandma's birthday party. Apparently if you show up late for a mafia party then you're gonna totally end up late. Like, do you get it? _Late_."

The stadium erupted in silence.

"Okay whatevs. You guys have no sense of humor. Anyway, I'm Felix, and I'm gonna do the rest of the fashion commentary for this really unusual model show. Love the red and blue. Very patriotic. Haha, joke guys. I know this is, like, baseball."

Another voice murmured in the background.

"I mean basketball. Whatever. It's all balls."

Alfred laughed as he watched his coach turn an amazing shade of red. The coach grumbled about butt-munchers and then ordered the team back onto the court. Alfred was so glad that in only a few more minutes he could say hello to the state championship and goodbye to his bigoted coach forever. He blocked out the distraction of Felix's running commentary about the tacky shorts and bad hairstyles. Still, he really hoped someone was recording Felix to upload to youtube later. The comments alone would be priceless.

The clock hit zero and the Eagle's victory was complete. Alfred whooped and high-fived his teammates as the stadium cheered wildly. Alfred flashed a blinding smile at his boyfriend only to discover that Arthur was no longer in his seat. Alfred started to frown even as the rest of his teammates continued to soak up the audience's cheers. He knew Arthur didn't really care about sports other than soccer, but it wasn't like him to ditch a game, especially such an important one for Alfred.

After the yelling died down, he could hear Felix once more over the speakers. "Oh hey, is it over? Awesome. So like, someone totally has a question for one of the players. I'm gonna, like, put on some music and let him do his own thing. Laterz."

Alfred heard a surprised murmur from the audience. He could see them glancing up at the scoreboard. He turned and followed their gaze. "Alfred, will you go to prom with me?" the sign read in giant flashing letters. Alfred couldn't stop grinning as his teammates began to turn his way with looks of surprise and envy. They glanced over at the giggling group of cheerleaders, but Alfred, who knew exactly who was asking the question, looked higher up in the stands. He finally spotted the object of his affection at the very top of the bleachers.

Arthur began walking down the steps with a microphone in one hand and a single red rose in the other. He signaled to Felix in the sound booth and the opening sounds of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" filled the stadium. Now Alfred understood why Felix had taken over the sound booth. It was all part of Arthur's elaborate, awesome plan. Alfred decided he had the best boyfriend ever.

To nearly everyone else, Arthur looked the very image of a calm, cool, and collected Englishman as he purposefully descended the stairs. But Alfred could see how tightly Arthur gripped the mic and the pink tinge at the tips of Arthur's ears. He smiled up at his boyfriend, trying to wordlessly reassure him that no matter what anyone else thought, Alfred was thrilled that Arthur had planned such a public surprise.

Arthur smiled back slightly. He took a deep breath and began to sing, but he had decided to replace the typical baseball lyrics with his own rendition:

May I take you out to the prom, babe?  
Take you out in the crowd.  
Buy us some roses and snappy suits,  
I don't care if they all call us fruits.

Yeah let's play, play, play for the same team  
If you say no, it's a shame.  
Cause I just, want, to take you out  
As my hot prom date.

At the final line, Arthur reached the end of the stairs. He offered the rose to Alfred, who accepted it with a grin. Parts of the stadium began to clap wildly. Alfred realized that he recognized a lot of GSA members in the audience and he wondered if Arthur had asked them to attend just to provide additional support. Some parents smiled fondly, while others watched with vague looks of disapproval or boredom. Alfred didn't care what any of them thought. He grabbed the microphone, tossed it to his teammate Jack, and claimed Arthur's hand in his own. Screw the rules on PDA, he was going to walk out of the stadium holding his boyfriend's hand.

"Jones! What the hell do you think you're doing?" his coach yelled at their backs. Alfred glanced around to find that his coach had turned an intriguing shade of red. Alfred didn't think it was humanly possible to look that much like an angry tomato. But apparently it was.

" _Obviously_ , I'm going on a date with my boyfriend," he cheerfully replied. He could see his teammates starting to hide smiles in the background. No one liked their crotchety old coach, so they would approve of anything that caused the veins to pop out in their coach's neck.

Still holding the rose, Alfred pushed open the door to the wonderfully cool air outside and ignored whatever angry words his coach was continuing to yell at them. It was the end of basketball season and he officially didn't care any more. Alfred smiled happily as they stepped out into the crisp evening weather and then leaned forward to catch Arthur in a kiss. "That was freaking fantastic." he said after they finished.

Arthur smirked. "Yes, I know I'm a good kisser, but what did you think of the song?"

Alfred kissed him again, hoping that it would convey how much he loved the idea of Arthur publicly declaring his affection in front of a stadium filled with students and parents. Sometimes he wondered if Arthur was ashamed of him because he avoided public affection, but this display removed all doubt.

They climbed into Alfred's truck. Alfred revved up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. He was very glad his parents had decided to drive separately—they were almost disgustingly fascinated with Arthur and they asked all sorts of boring parent questions about his interests and future plans. Did he do well in school? Was he going to college? It was so embarrassing. He wanted Arthur all to himself.

Alfred parked in front of Micky D's. After a long game, he was starving. He raced to the counter and ordered enough hamburgers to feed a small army, plus one more for Arthur. He smiled as Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred reminded his boyfriend that he _had_ promised Alfred his choice of restaurant to celebrate his basketball state championship.

"I know," Arthur muttered. "But _I'm_ choosing our prom restaurant."

"Ooh, will it be Olive Garden? That place has class!"

Arthur refused to dignify that statement with a response.

Alfred carried his stack of hamburgers to their table and began to happily munch his way through the pile. Even though he talked while eating and had ordered way more burgers, Alfred still finished first. He credited his awesome eating skills, while Arthur said it was his lack of etiquette. They happily bickered back and forth as they finished every single fry. At some point, they arrived at the topic of their favorite television shows. Arthur insisted that Doctor Who was far and away the best sci-fi television series in existence, while Alfred argued fiercely in favor of Star Trek.

They finally agreed that a weekend marathon of both shows would be the only way to decide the issue for good. In the end they declared a draw, probably because they spent more time snogging on the couch than actually watching the shows.

By the time Monday rolled around, Alfred fully expected that he and Arthur would be the main topic of conversation at school. He didn't expect that everyone would _also_ be talking about Coach Akins' sudden suspension for yelling cusswords and derogatory terms for gays at Alfred when he left. His tirade had gotten thousands of views on youtube and people from all over the country had started calling the principal to urge her to fire the coach.

A local journalist even asked to interview Arthur and Alfred for a human interest story in the sports section. Alfred happily agreed. Arthur had to be convinced, but after Alfred's effusive praise for his public speaking skills, he finally gave in.

"You know, I rather hoped that my little performance on the basketball court would force your coach to say the wrong thing in public," Arthur admitted after the interview.

Alfred grinned. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Arthur shot him a sly, playful, and oh-so-damn-sexy look. "Don't worry, I've found that some things are better than revenge." He paused for a moment and tilted his head to the side. "But revenge is rather nice too."

* * *

_Part VI: High Jinks_

On prom night, Alfred arrived at the school by himself.

Because Arthur's duties as student council president required last minute prom preparations, they had agreed to meet at the school and grab a late dinner afterwards. Alfred didn't mind. He figured that if they stayed out late enough, their only option for dinner would be fast food. He really liked Arthur, but it was annoying to go to restaurants that insisted you keep your elbows off the table. Arthur had been a ball of stress the past week, racing around making final preparations, so Alfred really hoped that he'd have a chance to finally calm down and enjoy the night once the dancing started.

Alfred waited in the hallway as patiently as he could and maintained a careful distance from his locker. You never knew when ghosts would decide to exact their revenge. Maybe Myrtle was angry that no one had ever taken her to prom.

He perked up when he heard quick steps moving towards him. "Sure took you long enough," Alfred teased as he spotted Arthur walking down the hallway. Alfred almost never arrived before Arthur, so he liked to rub it in on those few occasions when he actually managed to arrive on time.

Arthur waved his hands dismissively and blamed a few last-minute problems. He pulled to a stop in front of Alfred and gave him a _very_ appreciative look. "Your suit looks nice," he finally managed, a faint blush covering his face.

"Your blush looks nice," Alfred replied with a grin.

Just as Alfred expected, Arthur fiercely denied that he was blushing, his cheeks growing redder with each protest. By the time he finished complaining, Arthur was beet red. Alfred had discovered Arthur's tendency to blush in their second week of dating and he still couldn't resist an opportunity to prod Arthur until he turned adorably pink. He loved when Arthur looked mature and sexy, but sometimes he enjoyed seeing Arthur's cuter side. Each week he discovered a new facet to Arthur, and they were all amazing.

After Arthur's face cooled down, they entered the school gymnasium arm and arm. Alfred paused a moment to admire the decorations. In keeping with the "Flying High" prom theme, the committee had decorated the ceiling with blue and white streamers and dozens of multicolor kites hanging from the rafters. The streamers and kites fluttered in the breeze created by the open doors.

Alfred whistled in appreciation as he craned his neck to look around the room. "Damn. I still can't believe they let the prom committee get away with this," he said, nodding in approval at the decorations.

Arthur smiled and shrugged. He explained that the administrators had finally thrown in the towel and allowed the prom committee their choice of themes, even if it did have drug-related undertones. They decided that "Flying High" wasn't too obvious and it worked well with the school's Eagle mascot. Although he didn't really care for the theme, even Arthur admitted that the visual pun on 'high as a kite' was rather clever.

Alfred and Arthur waved to Monique in the corner and watched as she crossed off something on her clipboard. A few people near Monique looked depressed when they saw Alfred and Arthur head over.

"Geez, what's wrong with them?" Alfred whispered. "I thought everyone would be cool with us, no one made a deal about it earlier."

Before Alfred could get angry, Arthur reassured him that it wasn't anything to do with them personally. Because she was placed in charge of ticketing, Monique had decided to start a betting pool on Elizabeta's date for the evening. The odds were evenly matched for Roderich and Gilbert, but some of the more daring students bet that Lizzie would go to the prom with Alfred and Arthur. Both of them. At the same time.

Alfred laughed, relieved that the students were just annoyed about losing money. He was still adjusting to being out of the closet. It felt liberating most of the time, but now and then he wondered if people acted a certain way because he was bi. He grinned at Arthur. "Oh man, we could have bet money on that ourselves and then made it happen. We'd be rich!"

"I think you'll find that my choice offers the better pay-off," Arthur replied.

"Why? Who'd you bet on?"

"Felix."

Alfred chuckled, but soon stopped laughing when he saw that Arthur was being serious. He took a few minutes to process the thought of flamboyant Felix dating the hoydenish Elizabeta. Felix liked to wear dresses and Lizzie had apparently thought she was a boy until she started growing breasts. Alfred paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Maybe they had more in common than he thought. "But I thought Felix was… isn't he dating Toris?" he asked.

"You mean the quiet, brown-haired kid? The one over there with the crazy knife girl?"

Alfred glanced at the strange couple. Sure enough, Nataliya had one arm wrapped around Toris while the other held her signature knives. He wondered how she had managed to bring knives to prom, before realizing that none of the old security guards would have the guts to try to keep Nataliya away from her knives. She claimed that the knives were important family heirlooms and no one argued with her because she had a point. Two of them, in fact.

As the lights dimmed and the music began to play, Alfred pushed thoughts of Toris, Nataliya, or anyone else out of his head and pulled Arthur into the mass of dancing bodies. They danced like high school students everywhere—with jerky, awkward, haphazard movements, trying too hard to blend in and stand out at the same time. It was sweaty and hot and wonderful. Alfred didn't care if they looked ridiculous. He tossed his hands in the air and jumped to the beat, yelling out song lyrics even when he didn't know the words. Students bumped and grinded nearby, but the student council president didn't spare them a second glance. He had explained to Alfred before the dance that he had no intention of enforcing the "6 inches of space between bodies" rule or following it himself. He had nothing against the rule , but he refused to obey a rule unless it was in metric. Alfred just thought the metric line was an excuse, but didn't complain because he sure as hell didn't want to stay 15 cm away from Arthur the entire night.

When the fast beat of the current song segued into a slow song, they moved closer, adopted the faux ballroom pose beloved by sappy teenagers everywhere (pressed tightly together, hands drifting downward as the song progressed), and swayed in time to the music. Arthur pressed his head against Alfred's shoulder and bemoaned the fact that his prom date didn't know any ballroom dances. Then he smiled slyly and pointed towards the door.

Elizabeta had arrived with Felix. Just as Arthur predicted.

Alfred shook his head in disbelief and admitted that the two looked surprisingly good together. "But not quite as good as us," he added with a wink. He was positive they were the best-looking couple, especially since Arthur had picked out the well-fitted suits. The red roses in their lapels complemented Arthur's green eyes. Although Alfred still would have preferred jeans and sneakers, even he could admit the black tie attire gave the place a classy atmosphere. For one night, he could manage to not complain.

Alfred and Arthur finished their slow dance, and then drifted over to say hello to the new arrivals. After complimenting Elizabeta on her beautiful dress—a traditional Hungarian dress borrowed from her grandmother, she explained—Arthur happily accepted his winnings from Monique.

Alfred whistled. "Just think of how many burgers you could buy with that much loot!" He licked his lips in anticipation of all the delicious munchies.

"I already know how many I'll buy with this."

"Really? How many?!" Alfred asked excitedly.

"None."

Alfred wanted to cry as he felt his hamburger dreams vanish into thin air. Those poor burgers! Arthur relented when he saw Alfred's pout and suggested that _one_ visit would be okay.

"But only one!"

Alfred grinned, knowing that he could easily turn one into two or three or five. Despite Arthur's grouchy exterior, he wasn't very good at saying no.

Just as they prepared to return to the dance floor, an announcement over the loud speaker cut into the music, directing the owner of the Nissan Armada with license plate number 1588SP to turn off the car's headlights. Antonio looked up suddenly and left Lovina standing by her lonesome on the dance floor.

Arthur pulled his date towards the doors. "Come on, I want to see this."

"See what?" Alfred asked, bewildered.

They followed Antonio to the parking lot, watching from the doorway as the normally cheerful student hurried over to the SUV that still had its headlights on. They heard a sudden shriek as Antonio fell to his knees and cried, "No! Not mi Armada!"

Alfred saw an open gap where the passenger window should have been and broken glass on the ground. He turned to see Arthur attempting to hide a triumphant smirk.

"Did you break his car window?" Alfred asked with a frown. For the first time, he was seeing something in Arthur that he didn't like. Arthur asking him out to prom at the end of a crowded basketball game had been a pleasant surprise. Arthur pulling destructive pranks on other students was a nasty turn. "Not cool, man."

Arthur shook his head as he tugged his boyfriend back inside. "No, I didn't break his window. Antonio always leaves his keys in the car. I just rolled down the window, turned on the headlights, and spread a bit of broken glass nearby. I bet it'll take that clueless moron _days_ to figure out that his window is fine."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing that there wasn't anything actually wrong with the car, he felt free to chuckle at the mental image of Antonio weeping over his Armada. It'd be even funnier when Lovina started chewing him out for ditching her on the dance floor.

As they passed by a corridor, they spotted Gilbert huddled alone at the end of the hallway. He had stolen a chick from the biology classroom and sat with it pressed against his face. "Du liebst mich, nicht wahr?" he asked softly.

Alfred was suddenly glad he didn't understand any German.

"You know, I had a prank ready for Gilbert involving laxatives in brownies, but he looks so pathetic sitting in that corner that I think I'll just skip it," Arthur said, his voice filled with pity for the lonely Prussian.

Alfred nodded in agreement. He was relieved when they made their way back to the dance floor, filled with happy gyrating students. Just walking past Gilbert was depressing. Alfred wanted to continue dancing, or at least continue the flailing he liked to call dancing, but Arthur made a beeline for the punch bowl. Alfred could immediately sense that letting Arthur drink from the punch bowl was a Bad Idea. He remembered that Arthur hadn't know about the existence of magical brownies and decided that his boyfriend was dangerously ignorant about certain aspects of American culture.

"Arthur, you know that's the punch bowl, right?"

"Yes, what's your point?" The shorter blond began filling his cup all the way to the brim.

"Punch bowl. Prom. There's like, a 120% chance that someone's spiked it."

Arthur took a careful sip and swirled the liquid around in his mouth. After a brief moment of contemplation, he replied, "At least three individuals by my guess. I taste absinthe, everclear, and… is that tequila?" He took another sip. "It's surprisingly good." He tipped back the whole cup.

Alfred watched, panicked that Arthur would decide to suddenly rip off his clothes and parade around the prom room in a bow-tie and a black apron. He didn't know why he would expect Arthur to do that, but the image just appeared in his head.

Instead, Arthur smiled and pulled his boyfriend back to the dance floor.

After a few songs, Alfred decided that he liked Arthur when he'd had a bit to drink. Arthur smiled a little wider, laughed a little louder, and danced a little faster. He sang along to the songs, especially the Lady Gaga ones. Alfred enjoyed himself as they danced close and partied the night away.

However, he did stop Arthur from drinking any more of the spiked punch after Arthur mentioned the green fairy he saw dancing around Alfred's head.

Alfred decided that was a sign it was time to quit for the night.

He had a hard time convincing Arthur that the green fairy really wouldn't mind if they left ("But she's lonely because no one else can see her!" Arthur whispered plaintively), but a surprisingly easy time convincing him to go to McDonald's for dinner. Apparently tipsy Arthur liked greasy food. Alfred filed away this new knowledge under the category of Immensely Useful. Not that he was going to encourage his boyfriend to drink just so he could get his hamburger fix. But Arthur seemed to do enough drinking on his own that Alfred would be fine if he just took advantage of opportunities as they arose.

Alfred did his best thinking while he was eating hamburgers, and he was starting to come to a realization as he thought about Arthur's pranks. Arthur was getting back at the students who had threatened to blackmail him at the party. It seemed like a long time ago, but Arthur seemed the sort to think that revenge was a dish best served cold.

"So what did you have planned for Ned?" Alfred finally asked.

"Hmm?" Arthur glanced up as he devoured another french fry.

"Well, you got payback on Antonio with his car, and you planned laxatives for Gilbert, so I figure you gotta have something planned for Ned. I mean, he was the one who actually brought the brownies and offered you one."

"Oh yes. I sent him tulips."

"Tulips?" Alfred scrunched his eyebrows. He was having a hard time thinking of how you could pull a prank with tulips. "Did they have itching powder in them or something?"

"What? No. They were very nice tulips." Arthur calmly ate another fry. "You should worry less about Ned and start thinking about the surprise I have planned for you tonight."

"Is it fireworks? I love fireworks!" Alfred asked eagerly.

"If all goes well, you'll be seeing fireworks," Arthur assured him.

Alfred grinned happily to himself and made a mental note to send Ned more flowers.

* * *

_Epilogue: High School Sweethearts_

At the end of a summer filled with fond memories, eager touches, and the occasional spat, Arthur went to Harvard to study English and Alfred left for MIT to major in computer science. Fortunately for them, both schools were located in the same city. Despite difficult courses and loads of extracurriculars, they found plenty of time to hang out. Sophomore year, they moved in together. Senior year, Alfred proposed. And when people asked how they met, they shared a smile, and responded "High School."

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, the transfer is going a little slowly because I am incapable of posting a story without reading through it again and making a few tweaks. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed all of the puns!


End file.
